Angels of Mercy
by Katelyn Rhianne
Summary: I don't really know what I thought it was going to be like. I guess I thought, me being the hot shot doctor, that I could just turn up at the IDP camp and be treated as a hero because I was the American with the medicine and the answers. How wrong I was.


_**This is just a short one-shot about Pratt's time in Darfur. I watched the episode "There Are No Angels Here" last night and this idea came to me. I just could shake it so I had to write it. I hope you like it and I would love to hear what you think. **_

**Angels of Mercy **

Some people go through life, ignorant to the pain and suffering others are subjected to. They are happy to go on living their lives, oblivious to the problems of the world and feeling hard done by when there's a traffic jam on the way to work or when the day doesn't go exactly to plan. I remember when Hurricane Katrina struck. I remember thinking how awful it was, that all those people had died for nothing. But that was hundreds of miles way and though I did get to meet a few people that the hurricane had affected, I still never really thought about the implications of it. I was safe in Chicago, Illinois.

But now my outlook as changed. The things that I have witnessed, well, I guess I don't ever have the right to complain again. I had thought I was invincible, a hot shot doctor who knew everything. Well, I don't know everything. But I know more now than what I did before I experienced Darfur.

It's easy to feel disheartened when working at County. A teenager dies because they got in with the wrong crowd. An old man suffers a heart attack and fails to pull through. Your friend hits a kid while drink driving and you're the one that is guilty. But compared to out there, man do we have it good.

I don't really know what I thought it was going to be like. I guess I thought, me being the hot shot doctor, that I could just turn up at the IDP camp and be treated as a hero because I was the American with the medicine and the answers. How wrong I was. It doesn't matter what training or medicines or confidence you have, still babies die from treatable infections just because there's no time or resources to help. Women are raped while trying to feed and clothe their children. Men are shot for simply going to collect water so their family can drink and keep clean. And then those men are arrested and throw in jail, prevented from medical attention just because they did not report the shooting in the first place.

I remember every second of the time I spent in Darfur. Carter, Debbie, Dakarai, Ishaak and Sittina. I can still feel the rough earth under my bare feet as I walked into the IDP camp, after my first encounter with the Janjaweed. I remember that feeling as I winced and gasped with pain as I wrapped up my feet, then watched as a man, whose feet were much worse than mine, sat down next to me and smiled. I remember meeting Ishaak and trying to treat him. Until the police came and arrested him and I had to watch as they carried away a man who might die if I didn't help him. I still feel the pain as a rifle butt struck my forehead as I tried to help Ishaak. I remember that feeling of needing to cry as I watched a little baby die. I remember smuggling Sittina back to the compound to deliver her baby safely, because the power would soon cut out at the camp. My heart still beats wildly against my chest as I remember praying Sittina is not found by the police, while the woman attempts not to scream out with the pains of her labour. I remember, after finally getting Sittina to a hospital, coming back to find that the jeep has been burnt out and Dakarai is gone. I felt helpless and lost, scared and angry.

Darfur is a different world, one full of pain and suffering. But my time there was not wasted. I know that. It's hard to look back on that part of my life, but at least I can do it knowing I had done all I could. And it saved me. It made me the doctor I am today. It made me open my eyes and realise I have a good life. I am grateful to Kovac for sending me there.

The thing I remember most is watching Dakarai stumble his way back into camp, alive though not too well. I remember the way Debbie embraced him, how the children cheered and ran to meet him. How Carter smiled, glad his friend was back. It might be a place of pain and suffering, a day might not go by where someone does not die. But love is what keeps the people going. And that fact that they can still feel love after everything they have been through, after everything they will go through, sheds some light and hope, however small.

Sittina had called us angels. Dakarai had said there are no angels here. I had said speak for yourself. Maybe he was right.

I don't think so, though.

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_I know it's short but I hope you liked it anyway. Please review. _


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